Slippers
by The Irish Lass
Summary: Sam woke up to a fuzzy pair of pink bunny slippers. They were neon and nauseously bright, and who would give a full grown man footwear so ridiculous? Set in season 8.


Sam stared blearily at the contents of the shopping bag. He blinked, trying to clear the haze in his eyes, as if slightly fuzzy vision would make the things disappear.

They didn't vanish. They didn't so much as waver. They remained stubbornly pink and fuzzy. Slowly, ready to retract his hand if he was suddenly attacked by the neon pink lumps, Sam reached into the bag, hesitantly withdrawing the contents.

Twin pink bunny slippers stared back at him.

Sam cautiously turned them over, trying to find a reason there were pink bunny slippers in his room. On his bed.

All he found was a price tag, declaring the floppy eared footwear to be from Walmart.

He blinked again, and reached his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Dean.

It would be Dean's idea of a joke. A pair of elderly woman's slippers, for some reason made in a size that might fit a six foot tall man, would be a perfect way to remind his little brother of his girliness. It was probably supposed to be a not-so-subtle reminder of Sam's need to rest after the second trial.

Sam sighed, and dropped the slippers on his bed, shuffling towards the shower. He could think about this when his scalp wasn't itchy.

~W~

When Sam returned from the shower, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, towel draped around his neck (Dean would kill him if he caught a cold on top of everything else), the slippers were still sitting innocently on the red plaid blanket. He reached out hesitantly and poked them. One of them fell on its side.

The Stanford Graduate shook his head. Well, they weren't going to go away. And obviously they wouldn't disintegrate when poked. This left one alternative.

Sam shuffled his sock clad feet into the ridiculous slippers. He was still cold, so he pulled the blanket off his bed and wrapped it around his shoulders. The Bunker was a lot of things, but well heated wasn't one of them. Nevermind that Dean had offered to buy a kerosene heater for his brother's room (and had. It was sitting in Sam's closet now. If he actually used it, Dean might go into full mother hen mode.), the heating system installed in the thirties wasn't up to modern standards anymore.

Of course, Sam thought, as he slowly made his way to the library, the blanket was probably going to set of Dean's radar anyway. He considered turning back, but decided that was too much effort, and he was almost at the library anyway.

Kevin was working at one of the tables, bundled in a hoodie of his own. He nodded to Sam, his eyes lingering on the slippers, before returning to the tablet in front of him.

Sam wondered if he should care that a kid ten years younger than him thought his footwear was ridiculous. But his toes, warm and cozy in the pink neon pods, told him to stop worrying, and his spinning head insisted that he sit down. Sam pulled his laptop towards him, opening it and checking the news.

Dean came bustling (there was no other word for it) out of the kitchen, a tray of food balanced in each hand. He set Kevin's down in front of the teen, and sat down in front of Sam, pushing the second tray towards him.

"C'mon. Eat up, you Highness. I cooked for you." Dean nudged a mug towards his brother, taking another one for himself.

Sam reached out from his blanket, carefully picking up his own mug, and sniffed it. Peppermint tea. Dean stared at him from the rim of his mug, his expression giving nothing away, but his eyes betraying his worry at the deteriorating condition Sam felt himself going through.

Sam took a swallow from the mug. Dean's eyes lit up, and he pushed the raisin toast towards him. Raisins. Dean hated them. The toast, the tea, the slippers, were all for Sam.

Sam smiled at his brother, wrapping his hands more firmly around the tea. He could pull through this. Dean would make sure of it, one pink fuzzy slipper and mug of tea at a time.

~W~

So, not my favorite fanfiction that I've ever written. But it took me a half hour, so what can I say?

The inspiration for his came from a fanart I found on Pinterest. I couldn't find the artist's name, but, well… Sam was wearing fuzzy pink slippers. Sam would never buy himself fuzzy pink slippers. It had to be Dean. Sam was also wrapped in a blanket, and protesting to an off scene Dean that: "I'm fiiiine!" It was beautiful, and I loved it.

Reviews are much beloved and coveted as the precious gems that they obviously are.

'Til next time!

-The Irish Lass


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